


Personal Savior

by Stella_STARgazer



Category: Wentworth (TV)
Genre: F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-28
Updated: 2017-08-29
Packaged: 2018-12-20 20:38:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11928816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stella_STARgazer/pseuds/Stella_STARgazer
Summary: Instead of throwing her to the dogs to be devoured, Joan saves Vera during the riot.





	1. Chapter 1

Under pressure, Joan’s senses hone into a laser sharp focus. It’s an unseen gift that few possess and Channing is just one of the pathetic many. He stands next to her in the control room, watching with growing concern the events playing out on the screen before them, constantly barking his order to call in the SESG. 

 

Joan refuses to give in so easily. Her leadership, her superiority, is in question after Bea’s escape and she has no intention of drawing further scrutiny to Wentworth. These pigs may think they’re smart, but she’ll always be a step ahead. Vera is safe, because she’ll make sure of it.

 

Suddenly the radio crackles to life and a gravelly voice summons her name. 

 

“Ferguson?” the voice taunts her questioningly. 

 

“The situation is about to be resolved. A little more patience, please.” She responds with growing irritation.

 

“Oh really?”

 

“That is correcT.” Her voice drips with condescension. 

 

Miles returns to the room, an exasperated look on her face. 

 

“They’ve disabled the doors, the officers can’t get to them.” Joan’s lip twitches in response, her growing anger beginning to show around the edges.

 

“Have a look at the monitor,” the prisoner rasps across the radio waves. 

 

Joan returns her gaze to the screen as Vera is pulled back into view, a syringe now held against her delicate throat. 

 

“Time’s up Freak, open the door, or VinegarTits gets it.” 

 

Joan’s blood boils and the animal deep inside her finally awakens with a snarl. With thinly veiled rage, she pulls the radio to her mouth. 

 

“Do not harm Deputy Bennett. I’m speaking with the officers inside. We are working to comply with your demands.” She shoves the device into Channing’s chest and he grabs it, brow furrowed deep with confusion. 

 

“Keep them occupied and do NOT call the SESG unless I tell you to.” She growls as she heads for the door.

 

“Where are you going?” He barks after her. She stops in the doorway, black eyes locking with his, making him gulp under the pressure. 

 

“To end this fucking charade.” She snarls, then disappears out the door, leaving them all staring slack-jawed in her wake.

 

She sets off at a run to the south stairwell, knowing she can swipe through that door without notice then sneak through the back entrance of the slot to attack them by surprise. She climbs the stairs two at a time, her long stride and strong muscles propelling her with ease. She lives for moments like this; an opportunity to let out some of her well-controlled aggression, one far more gratifying than the studio fencing sessions. 

 

Stopping at the door into the unit, she pulls the black leather gloves from her pocket, slipping them on with a demented smile. Silently, she slips down the corridor, like a majestic cat stalking oblivious prey. She stops just around the corner from the prisoners, listening as she hears Channing reassuring them over the radio. When she hears them begin to respond, she strikes. 

 

With a quick swipe of her card, she opens the gates behind them, the scout in the back being her first target. They turn toward the sound and Joan’s instantly on her, a strong hand thrusting a fragile head hard against the grey brick wall. Prisoner one crumples to a heap on the floor. 

 

The second prisoner runs at her and with a swift kick, Joan shatters her knee cap, sending her tumbling in agony. She lunges for the prisoner holding Vera, slipping a strong forearm around her throat. The prisoner thrusts Vera hard against the wall and she sinks slowly to the ground, a smear of crimson tracking her descent.  

 

Joan stumbles back as the prisoner struggles against her, she drops the syringe and Joan kicks it away, under the opposite gates. Eventually she wrangles the teal-clad woman to her knees and brings a heel down hard onto her ankle, a grotesque crunch resounding through the room. She drops her, limp and screaming, to the floor and narrows her eyes to the last remaining prisoner. 

 

The prisoner raises her hands in surrender, Channing’s voice echoing through the radio in her grasp. Joan approaches and seizes her by the throat, ripping the bandana down from her face. Demonic eyes bore into Gambaro’s, the fear blatantly clear in her beady eyes and ruddy cheeks. Joan leans in close and squeezes her hand harder around Gambaro’s thick throat, enjoying the feel of surging blood beneath her grip. 

 

“What’s the problem Gambaro, no bite without your boys to help you? Typical. You fucking filthy pig.” She squeezes harder still, relishing the terror in Juice’s bulging eyes and the wheezing breaths she takes. 

 

There’s a commotion behind her and she eventually releases her grip, lips trembling and breathing heavy with ire. Gambaro falls forward, grasping her aching throat as she gulps in ragged breaths. 

 

A myriad of officers burst into the corridor, working to detain each prisoner, though they’re all incapacitated beyond any fighting ability. Channing rounds the corner, steps thundering across the tile, hands clenched tightly in fists at his sides. 

 

“What the fuck was that, Joan?” He roars up at her, eyes narrowed and jaw tightly clenched. 

 

With growing calm she runs a hand down the front of her jacket to smooth the ruffles and leans in close against his redden ear. 

 

“That was me controlling the situation.” She purrs patronizingly before turning sharply to focus her attention on Vera. Two officers are hoovered over her, trying to get her to stand, but she’s obviously in shock and not very responsive. Joan orders them away with a growl. 

 

Before her deputy she sinks to her knees, reaching a gentle hand under her chin, lifting watery blue eyes to meet her own. She smiles tenderly, genuinely, and leans close to whisper to Vera.

 

“It’s alright. You’re safe now, I’ve got you.” Vera looks at her and blinks hard against the tears falling from her eyes.

 

“Do you think you can stand?” Joan asks gently and after a moment, Vera nods slowly in response.

 

With strong hands, but a gentle grasp, Joan helps the diminutive woman to her feet. Vera stands only momentarily before her knees give way and she begins to sink, Joan catching her with a firm grip around her waist. Vera presses against Joan’s bicep, trying to offer apology and stand again, with little success. 

 

“Just let me carry you. You’re in shock and we need to get you to medical.” Joan scoops her up with ease, cradling her against her chest as she turns to address the remaining officers in the room, who all watch wide eyed at her impressive display of strength.

 

“I want these four slotted immediately. They can be taken to medical after Officer Bennett is treated. Once they’re slotted, take down the women in the yard. I’ll be out there shortly.” 

 

Quickly she makes her way to medical, occasionally casting a concerned glance down to Vera who’s resting heavily against her chest, blood continuing to trickle from the gash above her right eyebrow. She’s still crying, but the cut on her head seems only superficial, giving Joan some sense of relief. She turns down the hall to medical, turning to push the door open with her backside as she slips into the room where Liz is staying. She eyes Doreen and Nurse Atkins crouched in the corner.

 

“Help me get her on the bed. I think she’s in shock.” Nurse Atkins springs into action at her side, helping lay Vera out onto the empty stretcher in the room. 

 

“What’s happened?” Doreen asks anxiously as she stands next to Liz holding her hand. 

 

“A group of prisoners tried to take her hostage. The situation is resolved, but I need you to asses her. I think she’s ok physically, there’s just the gash on her forehead.” Joan replies in a rush, addressing Nurse Atkins. 

 

“There’s still a riot in the yard and my assistance is required. I’m leaving her in your care and no one is to leave this room until I return. Understood?” She casts a stern glance to the three women in the room, who all nod their head in agreement.  

 

Returning her attention to Vera, she leans down and places a gentle hand on her shoulder. Vera looks up with a pleading gaze that seems to say “Don’t leave me.” 

 

“You’re safe here. I need to address the fire in the yard, but I’ll be back as soon as the situation is resolved.” Vera nods weakly and with a final squeeze to her shoulder, Joan exits the room. 

 

She runs through the corridors to the yard where she’s met by a few of the officers in riot gear. 

 

“What’s the situation?” 

 

“Many of the prisoners have been detained, but a handful are still resisting. Jackson is leading the takedown.” With a curt nod, she steps around the officers and heads out into the fenced perimeter. 

 

The prisoners see her as she strides to the gate and begin to jeer and yell in her direction. She approaches Officer Jackson and gestures to the megaphone in his hands. He immediately hands it over and steps out of her way. Maxine Conway holds up a fist and the group grows silent. 

 

“Well…” Joan begins coolly “...it appears your little coup was all for nothing. Bea Smith remains in the slot. Lucy Gambaro and her gang now accompany her.” She takes a moment to let her words sink in before she continues.

 

“You see, you may think you can overrule me, but  _ I  _ am the governor of this prison, not Smith, not any of you. Now...if you still feel compelled to continue to ruin your own personal possessions, be my guest, but know that the longer you continue this charade, the higher the consequences for you. I will not negotiate with rioters, so I suggest if you want to maintain ANY of your privileges, you cease and desist this little tirade immediately.” 

 

She lowers the megaphone to her side and watches in agitation as the women look to Maxine for guidance. Recognizing their upper hand has been lost, Maxine acquiesces, calling off the remaining women in the yard. Dropping the sticks and makeshift weapons from their grasp, they follow her back inside. Joan watches them with a haughty smirk until the last woman exits the yard. 

 

“Mr. Jackson, I want you to get all of the prisoners back into their units and initiate lockdown procedures until morning. They will learn that any defiance against me will result in swift punishment.” Will nods in agreement as he starts motioning the other guards inside. 

 

“I need to handle Channing and then see to Officer Bennett, so I’m leaving you in charge.” 

 

“What’s wrong with Vera?” He asks in confusion.

 

“She was taken hostage by Gambaro and her crew. She doesn’t appear to be harmed, just minor cuts and bruises, but she’s a bit rattled. Nurse Atkins is assessing her now, so I’ll either escort her to hospital for further care, if needed, or home.” 

 

Will bites his bottom lip furiously, mumbling profanities under his breath. Despite his caring nature, sometimes the women in this place just disgust him. 

 

“Mr. Jackson, can I trust you to keep things under control?” She questions sternly. Will meets her gaze, stony eyes reflecting her serious tone.

 

“Absolutely, governor.” 

 

With a curt nod she leaves him to it, returning to her office to deal with Channing. 

 

She finds him seated at the desk and he rises instantly when she enters the room, face red with anger and his tie slightly askew.

 

“What the fuck just happened back there, Joan? You attacked and took down four prisoners!” He barks angrily as she crosses behind him and begins to collect her things, preparing to leave.

 

“My officer was in danger, so I handled the situation, just like I told you I could.” Her voice remains calm, but oozes with smugness.

 

“And how the fuck do you intend to explain this to the board?” He yells back in exasperation.

 

“Exactly as I just explained it to you. A violent, life-threatening situation was at hand, and I handled it accordingly, without anyone being harmed.” She pulls on her coat, tightening the belt at her waist as she retrieves the clear bag from her desk. 

 

“Are you fucking kidding me?! You shattered one prisoner’s knee and the other’s ankle!” 

 

She steps around her desk and leans down over his shoulder.

 

“And they had a dirty syringe to her throat. Call them collateral damage.” She glares at him challengingly and after a long pause and heavy sigh he relents, picking up his briefcase and coat from the other chair. 

 

“This shit better be resolved by morning.” He huffs angrily as he breezes past her out the door.

 

“It already is, Mr. Channing,” she calls after him with a smug grin.


	2. Chapter 2

For Joan, the compulsion to protect others is not common. She’s much more hard-wired to destroy; strike first, lest you fall victim yourself. A desire to protect implies a connection, implies an emotional investment; something she rarely permits, as it’s burned her so many times before.

 

Protection is what drove her to action this time, she knows it, but vows to keep that knowledge safely guarded; a hard learned act of self preservation. Conveniently, a sense of moral obligation will act as a convincing motivator, hiding the true source of her compulsion. No one but herself will know that, nor will they see the compassion she offers her deputy behind these closed doors. 

 

Vera sits before her on the couch, watery eyes staring off into space. She’s not spoken a word since leaving Wentworth, actually not at all since the incident, according to Nurse Atkins. Crouched before her, Joan tilts her head to try and catch Vera’s gaze, but the blue eyes stay locked on the far wall.

 

“Vera, let me help you out of your jacket and tie.” The kindness in her voice finally pierces Vera’s conscious and she blinks hard before nodding consent.

 

With slow movements, Joan slips her hands into the neck of Vera’s jacket, coaxing it down her small shoulders. Vera flinches with the initial touch, then leans into Joan, slipping her arms out without a word. Joan folds it neatly, placing it over the arm of the couch before returning to the tie at her slender neck. 

 

Dark eyes raise to finally meet glassy blues and Vera’s surprised to see the softness behind them. She relaxes slightly under Joan’s touch, finally feeling security in the older woman’s care.

 

“Th-thank you.” She croaks out in a whisper. Joan permits a ghost of a smile, relieved to finally hear Vera speak.

 

“There’s no need.” Joan replies simply as she loosens the knot and slips the material from Vera’s neck. 

 

“I’ll run you a hot bath. Wait here and I’ll come get you when it’s ready.” Vera gives an absent-minded nod as Joan rises and heads up the stairs. 

 

She’s not been in this area of the house, but it’s small and there’s only one room and a bathroom on the second floor. She starts the bath first before going to Vera’s room to collect a pajama set and clean under garments from her dresser. She finds the dainty floral pattern on both quaint, yet oddly appealing. Once the bath is run, she returns downstairs to retrieve Vera.

 

She finds her blankly staring into the distance, fresh tears tracking silently down her cheeks. She steps in front of the smaller woman and offers a hand. Vera looks up to meet Joan’s gaze before reaching a trembling hand up to accept it. She rises slowly from the couch and Joan guides her to the stairs. 

 

“Do you think you can make it up?” Joan asks her gently. Vera nods and begins her ascent, Joan falling behind her with a gentle hand to her back in case she should need to catch her fall. 

 

In the bathroom Vera looks to the toilet, seeing the neatly folded clothes and towel there. She turns to Joan with a bemused stare. 

 

“You can manage this part, yes? I’ll just go downstairs and make some tea. You should get something in your stomach. I’ll check back shortly.” With an awkward nod Joan steps out of the room, gently closing the door behind her. 

 

She leans heavily against it with a sigh, loosening her tie to give her breathing room, pushing thoughts of Vera nude, soaking in the tub, from her mind. She heads back to the kitchen to make the tea. 

 

Vera watches the door in silence for a long while before eventually moving to the tub. She dips a hand into the warm water and closes her eyes as it flows through aching fingers. It feels better than she imagined.

 

She makes slow work of removing her clothes, muscles stiff and a dull pang settling in. She’s glad for the pain killers Nurse Atkins gave her, dreading the throbbing pain she’ll no doubt feel in the morning. She lowers herself into the warm water, a heavy sigh involuntarily escaping her dry lips.

 

Closing her eyes in relaxation, she sinks lower into the tub. Suddenly she’s accosted with the image of being slammed against the glass as she tried to radio for help. A sharp pain afflicts her neck as she pictures the syringe to her throat. The full weight of the encounter finally comes crashing in and with a rattling breath, the sobs begin. She gasps and sputters, trying to reign in the emotion, but the tears keep falling defiantly. 

 

As Joan approaches the door to check in, she hears the heaving sobs of her deputy and her heart begins to race with worry. She knows it makes her vulnerable, this attachment….fondness, that she’s developed for Vera, yet she finds herself incapable (or perhaps unwilling) to “correct” it. Vera’s so innocent, an attack like this could break her, and again Joan’s urge to protect kicks in. 

 

She raps gently on the door, trying to get Vera’s attention, but her sobs continue. Leaning an ear to the door, she knocks again, calling to her this time.

 

“Vera, Vera...are you ok? I need you to answer me.” She tries to keep her voice steady, but her growing concern colors her tone with a sense of urgency. Still she gets no reply; the sobbing only seems to grow louder. 

 

“Alright, I’m coming in.” 

She opens the door and steps into the room, keeping her eyes trained on the wall, just above Vera’s head. Vera looks up but continues bawling, her shoulders jerking violently with every choking breath. Her eyes are wild with fear, knees pulled tightly to chest as she rocks back and forth in the water. It’s obvious she’s having a panic attack. 

 

Joan quickly removes her uniform jacket, laying it across the sink before moving to the tub, dropping to her knees beside Vera. She’s uncomfortable at being so close to Vera when she’s so exposed, but concern propels her into action. 

 

“Vera, I need you to talk to me.” Joan coos softly as she lays a gentle hand on Vera’s bare shoulder. Vera looks up at her, eyes wide, lip trembling wildly.  

 

“They...they tried to kill me!” She cries on the verge of hysteria as she begins to hyperventilate. 

 

Joan grabs her face firmly, broad hands cupping tear-drenched cheeks, pulling her head close until their foreheads are touching. Her voice comes in a low, stern tone as she locks eyes with the trembling woman before her.

 

“Vera, listen to me. You are safe now. They can’t hurt you. Do you hear me?” Vera blinks hard in response, the close proximity and Joan’s tone beginning to break through the chaos in her mind.

 

“I need you to breath with me, ok? Match my breathing, can you do that?” After a pause, Vera nods and begins to inhale deeply, as she matches the rhythm Joan provides, each exhale coming as a shaky rush between clenched teeth. Eventually her breathing returns to normal and Joan slackens her grip and slowly eases her head away. 

 

“Good girl. Now, let’s get you out and dressed, then you can get in bed. Hmm?” Vera nods in assent and Joan gets up from the floor. 

 

Grabbing the towel on the toilet, she hands it to Vera and turns her back so she can dry off and dress. Once done, she guides Vera to her bedroom, pulling back the covers to allow her to climb into the bed. She pulls them up around Vera’s waist with a gentle smile. 

 

“Wait here and I’ll be right back with the tea.” She pats Vera’s hand gently and turns to head out the door. 

 

She brings two mugs of tea upstairs, handing one over to Vera who accepts it with a small smile. Looking around the room, she sees there’s no chair, so she stands awkwardly next to the bed. Vera looks up shyly.

 

“You can sit on the bed with me, if you want. It makes me a little nervous to have you just standing there.” An awkward expression moves across Joan’s face before she finally moves around to the other side. 

 

She slips off her shoes and sits next to Vera, on top of the blankets. After a moment of adjustment, her anxiety slackens a little and she stretches out her legs, crossing them at the ankles.

 

They drink their tea in silence and Vera finally begins to relax, the adrenaline dissipating and exhaustion settling in. She finishes her tea and sets it on the nightstand. When she turns back to look at Joan, a new reality hits her and fresh tears begin to well in her eyes.

 

“You...you saved my life, Joan.” Vera whispers, as the tears begin to fall.

 

“I wasn’t going to let them hurt you.” Joan replies a bit shyly, her tone surprising Vera with its hint of vulnerability.

 

Suddenly, Vera leans forward, wrapping her arms around Joan’s waist, burying her head against Joan’s chest, hot tears beginning to soak through her white shirt.

 

Joan freezes, her body growing rigid under the unexpected touch. It’s too close, too intimate….yet, she can’t seem to find the will to disengage. With hesitation, she sets her mug on the nightstand and slowly moves her arms to wrap around the small woman pressed tightly against her. 

 

The touch doesn’t burn, like she expected it to, rather it fills her insides with a warmth she finds unexpectedly soothing. She begins to relax under the embrace. Slowly and with an oft guarded tenderness, she begins to rub Vera’s back and runs a hand across her hair, enjoying the softness under her touch. After a few moments Vera’s breathing begins to slow, growing deeper and longer between each inhale. She’s certain the younger woman has fallen asleep. 

 

Cautiously she leans down, placing a tender kiss on the top of Vera’s head, her mouth lingering there as she whispers. 

 

“I will always protect, my dear Vera.” 

 

Panic colors her cheeks and her heart begins to pound in her chest when she feels Vera stir in her arms, eventually lifting her head to meet Joan’s wide-eyed gaze. Bright, doe eyes peer up at her. 

 

“You promise?” Vera asks in a whisper, eyes full of trust and devotion. She looks so innocent, so hopeful and Joan finds her walls cracking under the gaze. She places a gentle hand on Vera’s cheek and offers a reserved smile.

 

“Always.” She replies simply. 

 

Vera’s eyes fall to full lips and slowly she leans in. Joan gives into the pull and meets her halfway, their lips connecting in a chaste, but languid kiss. 

 

Headlong, they tumble into the abyss. 


End file.
